Sept. 7, 2014: Matt 18:15-20 & Romans 13:8-14

Year A, Pentecost 13                                                             

            As a priest in the Episcopal Church, one of the things I have been taught is how to handle conflict when it happens in the parish.  While conflict is not something that most people seek out, it also should not be avoided.  It can be healthy and help people grow.  If it is ignored or handled in an unhealthy way, it can be quite corrosive.   Some things about conflict management are pretty obvious.  Never handle it over e-mail.  The best thing to do is to deal directly with the person with whom you have the conflict.   Yet even with this knowledge, I find it a very hard thing to do especially outside of the church. 

Just recently I had a conversation with a very close friend of mine and she said something that really upset me. I acted like it did not upset me because at the time, I was not sure that I should be upset.  I always find it helpful to take some time to consider why I am upset.  Often it has little to do with what the person did or said and more to do with what is going on with me.  But pretty quickly, I realized that I was not going to get past this which meant that I had to talk to my friend.  By this time I was a little mad and I did about the stupidest thing you can do.  I called a mutual friend and talked to her about it.  Even as I was doing it, I knew it was stupid. I felt that I needed to talk to someone about it who would know the people involved and who might have some helpful advice.  My friend asked, “Well should I talk to her for you?”  Now these two friends and I go way back and that was how we dealt with conflict when we were teenagers so it was tempting to regress, but I said no.

            I was pretty ashamed with myself. I’m a priest. I should know better than this! Yet it is human nature to want to avoid conflict and seek comfort and support from a third party.  There is a technical term for it.  It’s called triangulation and in ministry it’s like the 8^th deadly sin.  Can you imagine Jesus going to Peter and saying, “Can you believe what Thomas just did?  Of course you can’t…Thomas can’t even believe what he did…he’s such a doubter.  I mean bless his heart, but seriously…”    Jesus would never have done that. He always addressed  conflict straight on because he realized how corrosive unresolved or poorly resolved conflict could be in a community. 

I believe that is what he was teaching about in the Gospel lesson for today.  Like much in the Bible, this particular Gospel reading has been misappropriated.  It has been used to call out sinners in front of the congregation.  I have heard of churches that will actually ask people to publically confess their sins in front of the congregation.  I would think that would have a rather negative effect on the people involved.  However, a lot of people would use this passage to defend that kind of treatment.

If you were to read this passage alone, without the benefit of the surrounding readings, it might sound pretty harsh…which is why you should always read something in context.  Right before today’s reading, we hear the parable of the lost sheep.  Jesus told a story about a shepherd who left 99 sheep to find the one who had wandered off.  After today’s reading Peter asks Jesus how often he should forgive someone.  Jesus recommends 7 times 77.  Does this sound like the kind of God who would recommend that members of a community castigate someone in front of everyone and then throw them out? 

This is not supposed to be a handbook for managing conflict in a community any more than the story about the sheep is a handbook for shepherds.  However, it is demonstrating a critical point. Jesus cares about the individual, but he also deeply cares about the community.  He knows that the health of the community depends on the relationships between the individuals within the community.     That means that the health of the body of Christ depends on us.  That is a pretty big responsibility.

            In Paul’s letter to the Romans, he also talks about the importance of the community.  “Owe no one anything except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.”  Paul then went on to mention a couple of commandments.  All of the commandments he quoted were regarding how we treat one another.  He wrote that all the commandments could be summed up in this phrase, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  How do we reconcile Jesus demand for confrontation and his call for us to love one another? How can we love our neighbor as we love ourselves while also holding one another accountable?

            When Paul told the Romans to love one another as they loved themselves, he was quoting something that Jesus said in the Gospels.  In order to love others we have to know what it is to love ourselves, to see ourselves as beloved children of God.  If that is how we love one another, then one would assume that is how we confront one another or hold each other accountable.  Before we address the sins of the other, we must first address our own sins.  That way we will approach that person with humility. 

In my situation with my friend, I kind of did the first part.  I tried to examine what my own part in the argument was.  But then instead of approaching her with the appropriate humility, I talked to someone else about it.  Thankfully my friend was a good friend and she talked to me directly.  She apologized to me and by then I was able to also apologize for not handling it well.  While I am not proud of how long it took me to talk to her directly, I did spend that time examining my own actions.  If we had left it at that (the self-examination without the conversation), we would have just been ashamed.  But when we addressed it directly, it was a very healing experience. 

It is important to remember whenever we are dealing with conflict, even when we are almost certainly in the right, we are still sinners in need of forgiveness.  That is one of the reasons that we have the communal confession.  We don’t say, “Ok, whoever sinned this week, why don’t you come up to front and say the confession.”  We assume that we have all sinned and so we say the confession together as the body of Christ.   That does not take the place of those direct conversations, but it’s a good start, especially if we really think about what we are reading and consider our own sins as we read that confession.   I always try to provide a moment between when I announce the confession and when I begin it to allow for people to personally reflect.  (Now you know that when I give you a little longer than usual, it’s because I have a few more sins to confess.)

            I have a little disclaimer for this sermon.  Direct confrontation is almost always better than going to someone else to vent your frustrations.  But this method is never an excuse for cruelty.  You can’t just say the first thing that pops into your head whenever you want to.   Jesus could get away with that but none of us are God incarnate.  We can’t be sure that everything that comes out of our mouth is the word of God.  Why do you think I write these sermons down?  Sometimes the Holy Spirit comes to us later when we refine our thoughts, when we have had time to cool down.  Loving one another is not easy.  It doesn’t always come naturally.  If it did, Jesus would not have had to repeat it as often as he did and we would not still be talking about it today.   Love one another as you love yourselves.  Confront one another gently, but do so with the knowledge that you are just as sinful as the person you are confronting. 

August 31, 2014: Matthew 16:21-28

Getting Behind Jesus

Year A, Pentecost 12                                             

                                                             

            I confess that there are few things I enjoy more than getting the right answer.  For that reason and more, I empathize with Peter.  He was kind of the star pupil, or apostle.  At least he thought he was.  In the Gospel reading from last week Jesus asked the big question: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” There were a couple of theories that the disciples tossed around.  “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” Jesus knew what people were thinking.  What he really wanted to know was who they thought he was.  “But who do you say that I am?” This time it was not all the disciples who answered, it was one.  Simon, Peter, the first disciple to be chosen by Jesus said: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” 

            I imagine that Peter was a little worried when he answered this question.  It seemed like an obvious answer.  But Peter was a simple fisherman.  He was not a rabbi or an academic.  He did not know what Jesus wanted to hear.  So he went for the truth.  He answered not on what he had seen, maybe not even what he knew for sure.  His answer was based on hope and faith.  He anticipated that Jesus would be the Messiah, the strong and powerful king who would save them all from the tyrannical Roman rule. 

Thus far, Jesus had done almost nothing to indicate that he would be that kind of leader.  But he had given them hope, hope that he would be greater than the prophets who had come before.  They knew that he was special and unique because they has seen his miracles and witnessed the influence he had on the crowds. So they put this special and unique person in the only category they could imagine, that of the Messiah.

            Had this been a simple written test, maybe a short answer, Peter would have done quite well.  Jesus commended him on his correct answer.  He responded:  “Blessed are you,… I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” That is quite a commendation.  Who needs grades when you are told that your answer is so good--so very insightful, that even the gates of Hades could not stand up to you and your correct answer?  I bet Peter was feeling pretty good about himself.  He had finally gotten the right answer.  And not only did he have the right answer but he was the star student and the teacher was the Messiah.  It could not get much better than that.  And it didn’t.  It got much worse…at least it seemed like it did. 

            Soon after that moment of clarity, that moment where everything made sense and all was right in the world, things took a dramatic turn.  Has that ever happened to you?  Perhaps things had been difficult and then something happened that made you think that God was looking after you and you were on the right track.  All the bad things that had happened were finally making sense. God had closed the door, but you found that window of opportunity that provided the explanation for all those closed doors.  Then suddenly with no warning nor any good reason the window was slammed as well. You could see what was on the other side, but you could not get there.  It has happened to me.  Just at that moment when all the pieces finally fell into place, then it all fell apart. 

            As soon as Peter had figured out who Jesus was, Jesus started telling his disciples, his friends, that he would soon have to suffer and be killed.  This would happen at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the scribes…the religious authorities, the people who were supposed to know better.  Wait a minute…didn’t Jesus just admit to Peter that he was the all powerful Messiah?!? Those scribes and chief priests should be bowing to him, paying him homage.  Why would the Messiah, the son of the living God, suffer at the hands of mere humans?  Did that mean that Peter, the star pupil had been wrong? 

Since he was the star pupil, the very special disciple of Jesus, it clearly fell on him to clarify this.  Surely there was a misunderstanding. Jesus loved teaching moments.  This must have been one of those.  Jesus could not desert his disciples so soon after he had called them, so soon after they had put their faith and hope in him.  That would be a cruel joke.  Why bother even calling these disciples if he was just going to die?  If they wanted a dead messiah, they could have found that person anywhere.  This was the man they had tied their hopes and dreams to.  This was the man who had showed them love, grace and forgiveness. He could not die. 

            So Peter did what any good student would do.  He challenged his learned teacher.   “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”    Perhaps when we hear that now, it sounds a little disrespectful.  I imagine it made perfect sense at the time.  It would be like when your best friend or spouse says something negative about themselves.  Of course you would tell them they were crazy and to stop talking such foolishness.  And then they would look at you sheepishly and admit that was what they wanted to hear, what they needed to hear.  Because let’s face it, no one wants to hear the person they love telling you that they are going to suffer. 

Yet Jesus did not reply with a sheepish grin.  He did not say to Peter, “Right again my friend.  You get another gold star!”  Instead he replied: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”   That seems harsh and so contrary to what he had just told Peter.  He had told him he would stand up to the gates of Hades, and now he is calling him Satan, the landlord of Hades. 

There are many theories about why Jesus called Peter Satan.  He wanted to teach Peter that he was a different kind of Messiah, not the victorious kind that was expected. Instead he was the Messiah who would choose to suffer and die instead of conquer an army.  He called Peter Satan because Satan had already tempted Jesus to forgo the suffering and rule through earthly power.  That would have been easier for Jesus, but he knew it would not work.  Jesus knew that was not the kind of Messiah who was needed.  The Messiah that was needed would not free them from the Romans.  He would free them from sins, an entirely different kind of bondage.

It must have crushed Peter to hear those words because he thought he had figured it out. He finally had the right answer and now the answer that was before him was more suffering, more unanswered questions.   Jesus said that he would rise after three days, but I don’t think Peter heard that.  He tuned out after he heard that part about suffering and death.  Isn’t that so often the case in our own lives?  We get stuck in the struggling and the death and we forget that something comes after that.

It is natural to assume that life should get easier, maybe even smoother when we have the answers. Pop psychology tells us that we will find peace when we have accepted the truth.  But the reality is that there are no easy answers and no easy ways.  There are merely struggles that require more strength than we can possibly muster.  Sometimes faith does not lead us to peace, happiness, or the easy answer.  It leads us to a desperate cry.  It leads us to the realization that we do not have the answers, but we do have the guide.  So we follow.  “Get behind me Satan” sounds like an insult and perhaps it was.  Yet it is intriguing that he tells Peter to get behind him and then instructs his disciples to follow him.  You have to get behind someone to follow them. In a sense, he was telling Peter that even if he was the rock that he would build his church on, he was still a follower of Jesus.  Jesus demands that kind of humility from all of us. It would be transformational (perhaps even revolutionary) if all of our church leaders, our government leaders, our military and our law enforcement could display that kind of humility.  Even when we are convinced that we are right, we are merely followers of Jesus.  No more, no less. The only answer we need is the suffering Messiah that we follow.        

August 24, 2014: Exodus 1:8-2:10

What it Means to Have Power

Year A Pentecost 11  

 

            It would be easy to read this story from Exodus and say that it is a story about Moses.  After all, it is the first time we see Moses’ names and he’s clearly the star.  We know what happens after Moses grows up.  He ends up leading the Hebrew people out of Egypt.  But this story is not about Moses.  Then it must be about Pharaoh.  He’s an important guy, clearly very powerful. It’s not about Pharaoh either.  If it was about Pharaoh, we would probably have a name for him.  We don’t.  This story is not about the powerful.  It is about the powerless, at least the people who were perceived to be powerless.

            It is full of irony and intrigue.  It starts with a new Pharaoh who did not know Joseph, which means he did not know the story of Joseph.  He did not know how this Israelite had actually saved Egypt from a devastating famine, which brought more Israelites to Egypt.  This Pharaoh was probably only alive because of the actions of an Israelite who lived long ago.  He was at a disadvantage because of his self-inflicted ignorance.  He also seemed a bit paranoid, or possibly just horribly insecure.  He was worried that if the Israelites continued to increase in number, they would join the enemies of Egypt and overthrow them.  So he oppressed them, because as we know that is always an effective way to keep people in line.  He also hoped that by working them so much, they would not procreate as much…they would not have the time and energy.  Alas, this plan did not work.  The more they were oppressed, the more numerous they got. 

The Pharaoh called on two Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah.  Midwives were usually women who were barren.  Barren women were pretty much the lowest social status you could be in this time since a woman’s main reason for being was procreation.  The Pharaoh asked these women to kill all the male babies.  The girls did not concern him. The midwives feared God more than they feared Pharaoh. 

A lot of people are uncomfortable with the idea of fear of God.  The word translated to fear is a tricky one.  There is no direct translation, no English word that really works.  A translation that might be more understandable is honor. They honored God more than they honored Pharaoh.  They knew that the Pharaoh’s power was temporary and God’s was eternal. They did not tell him that they refused.  They just didn’t obey. When Pharaoh realized all these baby boys were still being born, he brought them back in and questioned them.  Their response is pretty hysterical.  They essentially said, “The Hebrew women are just popping them out so fast, the baby is delivered before we even get there.”  Apparently he bought that.

The Pharaoh then called on the Egyptian people to throw every male baby in the Nile so that they would drown.  One woman hid her child and put him in a basket in the Nile River.  When we hear basket, we think of a flimsy wicker thing.   This was no ordinary basket.   The Hebrew word translated to basket is the very same word that is translated to ark in the story of Noah and the Ark.  Clearly, the mother of Moses had put some time and effort into this little ark.  She wanted this child to be carried to safety, much like God wanted that ark to carry the people and animals to safety. 

As luck would have it, the daughter of the Pharaoh just happened to be bathing by the river and she saw this little ark passing by.  Of course, we know it had nothing to do with luck.  God wanted her to be there. She knew that this was a Hebrew child, a child that her father had ordered to death.  But compassion moved her when she saw him and heard his cries.  I am sure she knew about her father’s policy, but seeing the effects of this horrific policy must been more than she could bear. So she pulled him out of the river.  She knew that the ark while sturdy, could not last forever without her intervention.  So the daughter of the Pharaoh disobeyed her own father and saved the one man that would end up delivering an entire nation. 

It is fascinating to me that while the Pharaoh was so intent on killing all the males, it was the females, the ones who were already alive, who would be the means of his undoing.  He feared that the Israelites would become so numerous that they would create an army.  They didn’t need an army.  They needed a couple of women who were considered completely powerless who would risk their own safety to save a child and to honor God.   The Pharaoh’s daughter was probably not a worshipper of the one true God, but maybe she was.  Jewish rabbis have surmised that she was at the river to cleanse herself of idolatry because she had discovered the one true God.  There is absolutely no evidence to prove this, but it’s an interesting idea.  What we know is that she was moved by compassion, a compassion that moved her to sacrifice her own interests for that of another. That is love in its truest sense.  That is God.

There is another theory that the rabbis have for this story.  They wrote that it was not the maid of the Pharaoh’s daughter who pulled the baby out of the water. It was actually her own arm. However, her arm extended to double or triple its length as she went to reach for this child allowing her to pull him out of the river.  We hear the phrase divine intervention all the time.  But God has always been fond of using human intervention for his divine purposes.  Sure, he could have destroyed Pharaoh in some fantastic way and then carried the people of Israel in a cloud to the Promised Land.  That is not how God operates.  God likes humans to intervene.

God especially loves to use those people who would be considered powerless by most.  Those Hebrew midwives had nothing but their courage and their faith in God.  Moses’ mother had nothing but courage, love and faith. The daughter of the Pharaoh probably had more power than most women in that time, but it was still not very much.  The power that each woman had was her willingness to risk her life for another.  That is a power that God honors.  That is the power that Jesus wielded centuries later to save all humanity.

There are so many times in life when people do not act because they feel powerless.  They are powerless to change themselves or their lives or the world around them.  God proves again and again that power does not come with wealth, prestige or connections but in an openness to the will of God, to the possibility of something more. We think that we can only reach as far as our arm will extend.  Yet when we reach our arm out in love, God will always stretch us in ways that we never expected.  We will find that we are more powerful than we ever imagined.

August 17, 2014: Matthew 15:21-28

Take a Risk and Introduce Yourself Again

Year A, Pentecost 10                                            

            Recently I was at a meeting with various members of the church and we were talking about things that we could do to help people get to know one another.  One person commented that there were a lot of people whose family had been here for generations and some were born into this church.  That is a unique thing about St. John’s.  It speaks to a very passionate loyalty and love for the church.  That’s a good thing.  Everyone should be so fortunate as to have people in the church like that.  But it can also cause some roadblocks or maybe just speed bumps for new people to get involved in the church. One person said that he had been coming for over 25 years but it had taken him 15 years to feel like he was a part of the church.  Another person had a similar story. What was astounding to me was that both people waited it out and were committed to the church.  That tells me two things. One is that their faith is tenacious and they were here for God.  If it took 15 years, it took 15 years.  It also tells me that St. John’s is a special church.  They knew that or they would not have stayed.

            I recently heard someone say that, “[Faith] is not necessarily perfect belief or consent to a list of doctrines.  Sometimes faith is simply tenacity.”[1] I think faith is a combination of a number of things, but tenacity is a key ingredient and often one that we overlook.  It is not part of our creed or most of our prayers.  But tenacity is all over the place in other ways like today’s Gospel reading.   A women approached Jesus shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord Son of David…” He heard her but he did not answer her.  His disciples also heard her and urged him to send her away.  She must have noticed that he ignored her and his companions were telling him to send her away.  This did not discourage her. She came and knelt before him so he could not ignore her.  She said, “Lord help me.”  His response is one that bothers a lot of people. “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”  What has bothered people is that Jesus seems mean here. He is denying this woman and then referring to her as a dog. Yet despite this response she persisted.  She responded, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” 

            Here is where things get even blurrier.  It would appear that Jesus changed his mind.  Her response and her persistence had an effect on him.  Some say that he was merely testing her or he was testing his disciples.  People argue this because to say that Jesus changed his mind would be to say that he was wrong the first time.  That is not a fair conclusion.   It reminds me of that riddle.  Could God make a rock so heavy that even he could not lift it? My answer to that was always, Sure, but why would he? To say that Jesus can’t change his mind would be to say that Jesus did not have the power to change, which seems contrary to what we believe as Christians.  Jesus grew in mind and body when he was on earth.  He did not come out of the womb speaking in complete sentences with the body of a fully formed man.  There is no way Mary would have survived that.  So of course he changed. 

            Some say that Jesus embodied the old way of the Jewish faith as well as the new way which would become the Christian way.  He was both the God of the Old Testament and the God that brought salvation through his sacrifice and resurrection.   Stories about God in the Old Testament can occasionally depict a God who was more limited in who he accepted.  It the Book of Deuteronomy God supported the complete destruction of the Canaanite people because of the evil they had committed.   God had a clear preference for the people of Israel which seemed to end in the destruction of their enemies.  This is the background of the story for today.  The Canaanites were a hated people who were supposed to be annihilated by the people of Israel with God’s full support.  But here was a Canaanite woman seeking the blessing of Jesus Christ, God in the flesh and the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophesy. 

            She was smart and she took his argument and she spun it on its head.  She did not argue whether or not she was a dog, she just pointed out that everyone was deserving of blessing and even a scrap was enough.  There was plenty to go around.  I am not sure it matters whether or not Jesus changes his mind.  What matters are the minds of the people who were present and those of us who read this story now.  I believe that this smart and brave woman served as an instrument to model a new understanding of God and God’s love.  Remember what story we had only a couple of weeks ago?  It was the feeding of the 5000. Matthew made it a point to say that there was so much food that there were leftovers.  Jesus had already showed that God’s love was abundant and was meant to be shared with the masses.  This interaction with the Canaanite woman continued this lesson for not only the disciples but all of those who hear the story, all of us.

            In this story, Jesus displayed a certain tension in how we understand God.  He was still the God who had chosen the people of Israel, who loved those people and was loyal to those people.  He fulfilled the prophesies.  But he was also the God who would minister to the masses, the poor, the sick, the sinful.  There was no one who was not worthy of God’s love.   Jesus showed that he could do both.  The problem was that not everyone could accept that.  It was a huge change in the way they thought and acted.

Here at St. John’s, we carry a similar tension.  We have a 400 year old history, but we also want a future.  If we truly want to welcome people and be that church that shows the abundance of God’s love, then we have to live into that.  I have a feeling I know how someone could go 10 years without feeling welcome.  Let’s say this person shows up one Sunday. You introduce yourself and get his or her name and then you promptly forget it.  Next Sunday you are embarrassed because you forgot it and so you never ask again.  Ten years later and you still don’t know that person’s name.  We would not want to offend the person by asking their name.  As Episcopalians, the 11^th commandment is “Do not offend!” 

When we do not welcome people, it is usually not an intentional thing.  We are not purposefully shutting people out.  But that doesn’t make it ok.  We have to be intentional about how we welcome people into the church because not everyone is going to give it 10 or 15 years.  I have 2 challenges.  Find someone you do not know.  It might be because they are new or maybe they go to a different service, or maybe they sit in another part of the church.  Talk to them.  Here is the other side of the challenge.  If you are on the receiving end and you have met that person already, don’t tell them that!  Forgive them for forgetting and move on because I can guarantee there is someone you have forgotten.  Welcoming, real welcoming is risky.  Faith will always have risk.  That Canaanite woman took a major risk and kept at it even when she was rejected.  Take the risk.  If even one person feels a welcome they have never experienced, I think it is worth it.

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[1] I am not sure who said it because it was a podcast and there were 4 people talking.  The podcast can be found here: http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=530

 

Youtube link for today's sermon

When faith means falling

August 10, 2014: Matthew 14: 22-33

Year A, Pentecost 9                                                                           
                                                  

            One of my favorite movie scenes is from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  Indiana was a rather adventurous archaeologist who often found himself on epic adventures where he always seemed to be pursuing a treasure.  In this scene, he was running from some bad guys and trying to save his father. He came to this huge cavern.  He had to get to the other side, but there was no bridge, not even a rickety rope bridge.  It was too far to jump, but he knew that there had to be a way.  He realized with the help of a book that was providing him clues-- that it would literally require a leap of faith.  The bridge would only appear if he took the first step.  It was a bit of a catch 22.  He could only see it if he believed in it.  But he would have to believe in it without seeing it.

            I cannot tell you how often that scene pops into my head when I am thinking of the Christian journey.  We are rarely tested in such a vivid way, but believing in God is a huge leap of faith.  We are asked to believe in a God who we cannot see, cannot touch, and cannot hear.  He had a son who lived 2000 years ago and was killed only to come back from the dead.  We have stories that were recorded, but that is it.  How could any rational person be expected to believe such a thing?  We are supposed to live our whole lives based on this truth of which we have absolutely no proof. 

            Sometimes I think that had I lived when Jesus lived and been one of his disciples, I would not have doubted.  I mean who in their right mind could witness the feeding of the 5000 and not realize that this Jesus person was someone pretty special?  He cured people. He spoke with eloquence and power.  He calmed storms.  And this was all before he sacrificed himself and was then resurrected.  I occasionally find myself judging the disciples for their lack of belief. 

Just a few chapters before our Gospel reading for today, Jesus was in a boat with his disciples when they were hit by a violent storm. They were terrified of course.  Jesus slept right through it because he was apparently a very sound sleeper.  They woke him and he rose and calmed the storm.  After that, they were amazed and wondered what kind of man could command the wind and the seas.  In that story, it seemed pretty obvious.  They asked him to calm the storm and he did.  But today’s story is different.  I can empathize with the disciples fear and doubt.

            This happens right after the feeding of the 5000.  Jesus needed some alone time and told the disciples to get in the boat and go ahead of him to the other side. The Greek is pretty clear that Jesus actually forced them into the boat.  It was not a helpful suggestion; it was a command.  Suddenly there was a storm that battered the boat all night.  The text says that they did not see the person walking across the water until early morning, which means that Jesus waited until they had suffered through many hours of terror until he came to them. What was he thinking walking on water through a storm?  Would it not have made more sense had he first calmed the storm and then appeared to them?  Of course they did not recognize him.  It was raining and not even light out yet.

            One can hardly blame the disciples for having a hard time recognizing him.   He knew this and he tried to assuage their fears when he said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”  What is interesting is that while he tried to ease their fears with his words, he never actually calmed the storm…perhaps because that was not what they were afraid of.  Peter decided to test Jesus, which is never a good idea.  He said, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”  Notice that Peter did not say, “If it is you, give me the power to walk on water.”  No, he said, “Command me to come to you on the water.”  Jesus provided that command with one word: “Come.” 

            Peter got out and started walking.  Now for Indiana Jones, it was that first step that proved the hardest.  But Peter did not seem to struggle with the first step.  It fact, he did a pretty god job until he noticed the strong wind that had not ceased since the storm began.  It was then, after he had taken those first few steps that he started to doubt.  Then he started to sink.

            I think that is a lot more true to life than the scene in Indiana Jones. It’s always hard to take the first step and Peter should be commended and admired for the courage that must have required.   Yet it often seems, in real life, it is after a couple steps when things get really difficult.  It’s when you  take that first step and you think, well, God should really reward me for this first step.  And you pat yourself on the back and look around to see who is admiring your courage, and that is when you realize that the wind has not died down.  The storm is still raging around you.  Wasn’t it supposed to be easier once you signed on to this faith thing…once you took the first step?  Why is the storm raging on?  Why has life not gotten smoother?

            It is tempting in those moments to turn around and head for the safety of the boat.  It will still be a little scary in the boat, but at least you have something solid beneath you and there are other people close by.  At least that boat is familiar territory. 

But to Peter’s credit, he never turned around.  When he started sinking he called out to God, “Lord, save me.”   When he cried out, Jesus immediately reached out and caught him.  He then said, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  That always seemed a little harsh to me.  However, whenever Jesus used that phrase, “you of little faith” he was talking to a believer who was struggling.  It wasn’t a reprimand as much as it was a “Come on, you knew I would come through.”  Peter did know this.  That was why he called out.

            I admire Peter for taking that first step.  It must have been terrifying.  There was a part of him that must have believed or he would have never stepped off the boat.  But what I admire more is what he did when he started to sink.  He didn’t turn around and head back for safety and certainty.  No, he called out to Jesus.  He asked to be saved….even though the winds were still strong and the storm was still raging.

There will be so many times where we will want to turn around because things have gotten too scary.  We took that initial risk.  We went to church.  We read the Bible.  We did all the things that the pastor recommended but life raged on.  It is those times where we have to call on God, not because we expect that the winds will cease as soon as he hears us, but because we know that he will catch us.  There might be a bit of a fall before he catches us, but Jesus will catch us.  Perhaps it’s not the leap that requires the faith as much as it is the fall that comes later.  

July 27, 2014: Romans 8:26-39

Year A, Pentecost 7                                    

            The Book of Common Prayer is full of absolutely beautiful prayers.  They are eloquent and theologically sound.   They are often Biblically based.  Some of these prayers can be found in our Sunday morning service, but certainly not all.  If you only open it when you come to church on Sunday, you have probably only experienced about 10% of the prayers.   As Episcopalians, and people of the book, we should never be at a loss for words, especially now that you can access the BCP on your phone. 

I love these prayers and I know many of you do as well.  But there are other Christians who find it a little strange that we read our prayers from a book.  Many Christians find it inauthentic, as if we are only going through the motions.  I can see that perspective.  Sometimes we are going through the motions.  Occasionally I will be reading a prayer and realize that I have been thinking about something else the whole time.   Yet when you are composing a prayer…it’s pretty hard for your mind to wander.  If it did, it would be pretty obvious. 

            There is no right way to pray.  The Apostle Paul (who was never at a loss for words) wrote to the Roman community: “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”   When I think of a sigh, I think of something rather dignified, something that would be totally appropriate in an Episcopal Church.  However, most translations use the word groaning instead of sigh.  That sounds a lot less dignified.  That sounds like someone in pain, or at least very frustrated.   If the person next to you were sighing, you would probably be ok with that.  If they were groaning, well that might get a little awkward.  You might find yourself sliding in the opposite direction.

            It is not really clear in the text whether the Spirit is groaning on our behalf, or if our literal groans are the work of the Spirit. It might not matter.  Personally I would much rather have the Spirit groan on my behalf as I read an eloquent and theologically correct prayer.  Since there is no right way to pray, I think God would probably be ok with that method.  However, I worry when prayer feels too dignified.  For me, when my prayers have felt the most authentic and the most powerful were when they came out with tears and sometimes anger.  There has been occasional teeth gnashing, foot stomping.  Sometimes my prayers come out in laughter and tears of joy. These seem to be the ones that change me the most.

This does not mean that those other prayers that lacked laughter, tears or stomping have not been true or real.  They absolutely have been. In fact, I think it is those prayers that prepare us for the prayers that come out as groans.  Those prayers equip us with a sacred vocabulary, even if we choose not to use it.  Those prayers are what we come back to when the storm is over and we find ourselves exhausted.  It is those times when it is all you can do to even read the words in front of you…but you do because that’s what you need right at that moment. 

            Some interpret this passage as Paul not only saying that we do not know how to pray, but we do not even know what to pray.  If God searches our heart and can interpret those spirit sighs…it is only God who knows what we are praying for.  I find that a tad annoying.  I should have some say in what I am praying for.  Otherwise, why use any words at all? It’s not that we do not determine our own prayer; we just don’t always know what is in our head.  Sometimes our deepest needs and desires get stuck in our heart and never make it to the part of us that formulates the words.  Thankfully, God is there searching our heart…learning every nook and cranny so we can become the Christian we are meant to be. 

            What is our part in this complicated word scramble?  If God is searching our heart and the spirit is groaning on our behalf it would seem that we could live our life and not have to worry about God or faith.  It’s as if we outsourced our prayer life to people who can do it more effectively than us.  There is one tiny problem with that scenario.  There appear to be some hearts that God and the spirit just don’t have access to.  Sure, God could shove his way through like a big bouncer at a club, but that’s not God’s style.  Jesus never operated that way.  Jesus never forced himself on people.  He invited them to follow him.  He invited them to come a little closer.  God has delivered an invitation to each one of us, but we have not all responded.   Perhaps like a good Episcopalian you are thinking, well of course I responded….when I was in confirmed (5, 20, 40, 60 years ago). 

It would be nice if it were that easy.  But it’s not a one and done type deal.  You can’t invite God in and ignore him.  Sometimes you need to invite God in over and over again.  I imagine that most of us have had those times in our lives when our heart has gotten a little closed off and we have shoved God out .  Often it is more subtle than a shove.  We just did not have time for God.  There are other demands on us and God can be a pretty high maintenance house guest.  He’s got a lot of demands and that might get in the way of our social life,  job, sports, or the Desperate House Wives marathon.

That is where weekly worship or even written prayers come in handy.  We need a reminder—a constant reminder of who we are as Christians.  We might not have the discipline to read the Bible every day.  We might be too emotionally spent even to groan.  So we come back to this service, not just for solace but for strength.  It reminds me of that phrase, “fake it until you make it.”  It sounds insincere, but I think there might be something to it.  Even for a priest, there are times when I do not want to come to church, when I don’t feel like I have the strength to say prayers and sing the hymns.  It is those times when I am so grateful that I have this tradition of prayers and worship, and a community of people to worship with.  There are no excuses not to pray.  The prayers are right there in front of me. 

And maybe there are moments, I have a hard time believing every prayer.  But I know that God is still there working through every nook and cranny of my heart ensuring that the Spirit is there to translate my groans into heartfelt prayer.   Because the more I read the prayers, the more I believe them and the more I feel them. I believe that is true for all of us.  There will be times when it is really hard to pray, really hard to believe the things we pray.  It is those times when it is even more important to show up, to open your heart, open your mouth and let God take it from there.